This Full House Archive

Category: Raising Teens, Tweens & Killer Dust Bunnies

Times I Wish Photogenicism Was Hereditary

I was going through my Picasa albums in an attempt to segregate my photos from those my middle girl took, considering Heather's pictures are waaaaaaaay better than mine (DAGNABIT!) they just might give her digital cooties, or something.

I noticed something. Hope is my youngest and, at the risk of sounding all, you know, weirdish (YES, it's a word!) I swear, this child is photogenically gifted.

Winter, spring, fall, miffed at her oldest sister knocking her disk into oblivion while playing shuffle board (she looks totally like her father in that one!) seriously, you can NOT take a bad picture of this kid.

Me, on the other hand, I can strike the most unattractive pose, without even trying and, well, the only saving grace, in my opinion, are my eyes and, still, I almost always manage to come off looking like a, you know, weirdo.

Then, I found this one, from attending my 11th consecutive Fun Day, last week. What did I tell you? Dang if the girl didn't make me look good, too!

"My, you ALL have such beautiful red hair!"

Hope's teacher is really sweet, although, she does have this habit of making me go…um…what?

[looks left, right and left again]

"You AND your girls!"

OHHHHHHH, yeah, me and mah girls, have the same dark eyes and, although we go from curly, to wavy, to scared straight it just may ALL fall out, by tomorrow (guess which one, go ahead, I'll wait) you can pretty much tell we all come from the same gene pool.

Aaaaand, would you believe, they actually agreed to be seen with me, in public, untanned, in support their baby sister. By the end of the afternoon, they were sort of holding me up, too, can you tell?

"Pssst, Mom…but, she knows our hair is NOT red, for real, right?"

[sound of crickets chirping]

OHHHHHHH…HEY!…look, did you know, I also have a son?

Aaaaand, he's blonde, with the coolest eyes, sometimes (seriously, they change color) and what did I tell you, the girl can take some really awesome pics, for real, right?

© 2003 – 2011 This Full House

Oh, almost forgot (I know, act surprised anyway, okay?) don’t forget to enter to win a $100 gift card to Dick’s Sporting goods courtesy of BlogHer and Gatorade Moms! Click here for details!

June 8, 2011
Boom, Boom, BOOM!

A transformer behind our house blew up (like, in BOOM!) and we lost ALL power, this morning.

No big deal, really, happens ALL the time!

Although, I'm not quite sure why, other than listening to my husband insisting it's because our kids leave the lights on…ALL of them…ALL the time…and, well, it just makes mornings a REAL pain in the backside.

More than usual, I mean.

Considering that, this time, it happens to be on a Monday morning, well, you know.

2 hours later.

"Wanna go for a ride?"

My oldest is home from school for a mom-imposed mental health day (final exams and road test for driver's license, next week…enough said) and, considering that I hadn't showered and would probably spend way too much money on coffee, working at Starbucks, anyway.

"SURE!"

Plus, it seems my impatience was painfully obvious (tap, tap, tap, tap, tap…looks at clock…tap, tap, tap) not to mention, wearing a hole in our living room carpet.

"You can teach me how to cash a check."

Although, it's been a while (fyi: patience is a valuable job skill when freelancing, DAGNABIT!) I was more than happy to help my oldest learn the value of banking…on the positive side….for once.

"Sign here…account number goes here…oh, and they may ask you for some identification, so make sure you have your student i.d. with you…what?"

[blank stare]

"Aren't you coming in with me?"

No. Not because I didn't shower, or wash my hair, either.

"Nope, you don't need me."

She pulled down the visor, checked her makeup, joojed her hair, threw her purse strap over her left shoulder, then turned to me and said:

"Right, here I go."

BOOM!

Aaaand, that, my friends, was the sound of my heart…breaking.

"Ten..twenty…thirty…YEY, Mom, you want a donut? My treat!!!"

Call it divine intervention, or whatever, my kid (a.k.a. Countess D'Money) swears it's because someone, up there, somewhere, is just tired of watching me be soooooo stressed out, ALL the time, or something.

[shrugs]

I'm just very, very thankful to have celebrated a piece of my daughter's first step towards independence, followed by an impromptu and totally unscheduled hike through the park, together.

Oh, I then told Holly that I would let her drive, from now on, too…starting next week, of course…BOOM!

© 2003 – 2011 This Full House

Oh, almost forgot (I know, act surprised anyway, okay?) don’t forget to enter to win a $100 gift card to Dick’s Sporting goods courtesy of BlogHer and Gatorade Moms! Click here for details!

June 6, 2011
Liar, Liar, Birthday Cake on Fire!
I remember, back in the day (way before feed readers and Facebook ruled the interwebz) when my kids were smaller (i.e. NOT able to finish stuff ordered off the children's menu) how cute it was when they'd start planning their NEXT birthdays…the day AFTER…their birthdays.

Then, they got bigger, we started paying full price at the movie theaters and, well, thank goodness for Netflix.

Then, all of the sudden, we were celebrating birthweeks, evidenced by my having to clean the house, more than usual and, well, thank goodness our local super, duper, shop until you drop has an awesome bakery department, too.

Did I mention, my 3 oldest celebrate their birthdays in November, December and January, respectively, in birth order and…SURE…I could tell you, that…YES…we totally planned it that way…OF COURSE…I am still THAT organized (snort!) but, most of you would probably know I'd be lying, right?

As my kids continue to get older (me, too DAGNABIT!) I've since grown to appreciate celebrating birthweekends and focusing on enjoying the simple stuff, like:
- Waking up with all my body parts STILL attached.
- Sipping a cup of my husband's most excellent coffee.
- Enjoying the early morning hours, on our porch.
- Not having to go anywhere.
- Not having to do anything.
- Touching, feeling and actually getting to read the newspaper.
- Visiting with family and friends.
- Impressing the kids that…SHYEAH!!!…mom can STILL play a mean game of volleyball.
- Not to mention, NOT having to clean up, after (the house party, not volleyball, SHEESH!)
These are the things that made MY birthday weekend totally AWESOME, anyway!

Also, best cake, EVUH (thanks, Pam!) you know, I could really get used to this whole birthday thing.

I mean, after 39 years of practice, you'd think I would be, right?

[see blog title]

But, you can call me Matt…DAGNABIT!

© 2003 – 2011 This Full House
May 31, 2011
And I Wonder, As I Wander
My youngest daughter and I were fighting over radio stations on the way to school, this morning (I'm a little oldies and she's a little bit, you know, LOUD) when it occurred to me that we moved into our starter home, which happens to be THIS house, on Memorial Day weekend…in 1993!

"Wow, that means, you've been walking the halls for 18 years!"

Okay, so it's STILL a 7 room house and it's not like we have THAT many halls to begin with.

Actually, only 1, on the way to the bathroom, in front of the girls' room and, well, it can get REAL scary, walking down there!

Then, I got to thinking about it some more (stupid traffic lights) and, well, she was ABSOLUTELY right.

Although, it's more like I wander, as I wonder, after 18 years, why I STILL can't remember where in the heck I put stuff.

However, I refuse to believe it's because I'm old-ish (but, I still LOOK good, dagnabit!) besides, a person's brain can hold only so much information, before it implodes, right?

It's true, I read it somewhere, in a book.

[heavy sigh]

Aaaaand, for those of you skeptics out there (yeah, I see you, way in the back, over there on the left, in the t-shirt and cut-off shorts) who STILL don't understand how a person (like me) can FORGET TO HAVE BREAKFAST, I present to you, yesterday morning:
- Squints at clock on wall.
- Dang, we're late (AGAIN!)
- Grabs coffee cup.
- Runs back to house (stupid bladder!)
- Drive to school.
- Reminded about some school event, in an hour.
- Runs home to check for email.
- Checks other emails.
- Answers emails.
- More email.
- Reaches for empty coffee cup.
- Need more coffee.
- See box of cereal left on the table.
- Squints at clock on coffee maker.
- Oh, yeah, almost forgot to eat breakfast.
- Also, need more coffee.
- Dang, got to clean out coffee maker.
- Looks out kitchen window.
- Oh, what a pretty bird.
- Squints.
- Get off the feeder, you danged squirrel!
- Dog careens passed to bark at squirrel bird.
- Spill coffee grinds.
- Stupid dog!
- Great, paper towel roll empty (AGAIN!)
- Starts walking towards garage door.
- BARK-BARK-BARK-BARK-BARKITY-BARK-BARK!
- Shuddup, Doofus!
- Ummmmmmmmm…..
- COFFEE!!!
- Walks back to kitchen.
- Dang, I'm hungry.
- Grabs cereal box.
- GAH, it's empty.
- Go to throw it away, sees coffee grinds on floor.
- DAGNABIT!!!
- Places empty box on kitchen counter.
- Gets paper towels, cleans up coffee grinds.
- STARVING!!!
- Reaches for bowl, banana and where in the heck did that cereal box go?
- D'oh!!!
- Throws banana peel into empty cereal box.
- GET OFF OFFAMY BIRD FEEDER!!!
- Stomps off to back door.
- What's THAT smell?
- Forgot to switch the laundry (AGAIN!)
- Checks bathrooms for wet towels.
- FLUSH!!!
- I drink way tooooo much coffee.
- COFFEE!!!
- Start walking back to kitchen.
- Hrmph, someone left the washing machine door…oh.
- Walk back to bathroom for towels.
- Stomach growls.
- Start back to kitchen.
- Bon Appetit, you danged squirrel bird.
- Grabs cereal bowl.
- Steps over coffee grinds.
- Picks up cereal box.
- Shakes cereal box; looks inside.
- What the…now, who in the heck put a banana peel…[one beat, two beats]
- Oh…DAYUM!
So, the next time someone tells you, "I FORGOT TO EAT BREAKFAST," just smile, nod your head and know that…you know…it COULD happen!!!

[sound of crickets]

Or, give them a cup of coffee (or, a banana) then, take them by the hand and show them the way to the bathroom, or something, thanks!!!

[UPDATE: School nurse at middle school JUST called (seriously!) son is in her office, throwing up and, well, doesn't seem like I'll be eating breakfast, lunch, or dinner…anytime soon…BLECH!]

© 2003 – 2011 This Full House
May 27, 2011
“Man”ifest Those Post Its, My Son

Glen is 12, going on boyteen and, being raised in a house, filled with females, he's grown used to navigating through a raging sea of hormones.

Also, rooting through an endless supply of feminine products, because, well, there has GOT to be a roll of toilet paper, in there, somewhere, DAGNABIT!

On the other hand, our house seems to be a breeding ground for random pieces of bar soap and I guess we could always recycle them into something fun and useful…but…EWWWW!

Aaaanyway, all bathroom issues aside (you're welcome!) my son remains light-hearted about growing up in a testosterone-ly-challenged environment…mostly.

Although, I do make a point of reminding him, that he is the ONLY person, in this house, who does NOT have to share a bedroom (doorless, as it is) with anyone.

So, I was upstairs helping my son put away his summer clothes (wishful thinking, I know) the majority of which do NOT fit, so we made a quick job of it, by the way (UGH!) when, a giant dust bunny rolled out from underneath his bed and scared our socks back to their original color.

Apparently, his version of "clean your room," is slightly different from mine, by definition (i.e. picking your clothes up from off the floor is clean enough) I blame his sisters.

One by one, we took stuff off, from on top of some other stuff, moved more stuff and, DANG, the boy REALLY didn't have as much room as, you know, I led everyone, here, to believe….sorry.

"Can we put any of this stuff in the garage sale?"

[shiver]

I know, I hate garage sales, too. Still. We need the room and he wants a new skateboard, so on and so forth.

"Sure, if you're ready to let it go."

It's not like when they were younger, when I waited until they were in school to get rid of stuff (sorry guys!)

Besides, I still remember feeling MORTIFIED when my mom found AND read my diary and, well, I really, really don't want to go there.

"Maybe we could move things around a bit, too."

Since, you know, Glen was at school, the last time I changed his room around, by myself…WHAT?…he was still in single digits, at the time (I think!)

FLASH FORWARD: 3 hours later (for real, I checked!)

TAH-DAHHHH…I helped Glen create his very own official man cave…please disregard the hearts and flowers border…it used to be my room…B.G. (before Glen) and, well, life is good, once again…or, at least, this one rainy weekend.

I took some clean clothes up this morning and saw that he's since included a bunch of post its on his mirror.

Upon closer inspection, I realized that it was his version of a vision board and, well, suffice it to say, we got to talking about a lot of stuff, in those 3 hours and, even though I would LOVE to show you, it's not my place to tell you.

Okay, just one: Stay focused.

I think it's a boy thing, but also admitted that, some adults, even parents (ahem!) have difficulty, dealing with too many distractions, so on and so forth.

[taking an even closer look]

Aaaand, there's this one: Get more Axe gel and deodorant!

It's okay, anyone who's raising a boyteen already knows why that particular "post it" was being referenced to, in the short term, of course!

© 2003 – 2011 This Full House

May 23, 2011
I.O.U.

Our oldest is a junior (I know, still not sure how THAT happened) so, my husband, Garth (not his real name) and I attended a financial aid workshop at the high school, last night.

Because, you know, she's a junior, in high school and, well, this whole, "Holy Hannah Montana, I got a junior in high school," thing really didn't seem like such a big deal…when she was in kindergarten.

Long story, short (as of now, anyway) and 6 hand-written pages worth of notes, later (old school, I know) our best takeaway from the night?

We can now continue to talk about our kids, continuing their education, without throwing up.

Good thing, too, seeing as we'll be very, very busy, filling out paperwork, for the next 16 years.

Yes, I know, we have 4 kids and, yeah, this is EXACTLY the sort of stuff expert-types tell us we should have…you know…talked about…sooner.

Aaaand, it's totally what I expected the very expert-looking dude to tell us, last night, too.

Although, we kind of sort of, you know, already knew.

Still, the workshop was free and I was thankful to get any advice, coming from people, who get paid good money, to tell other people, you know, they don't have any money.

So, I sat there, kept my mouth shut (which, anyone who knows me, knows, quiet makes me itch) watched the expert-like dude fire up his power point, "Helping Students Pursue Their Educational & Career Goals," and cringed in anticipation

"It's never too late to start planning for college."

[heavy sigh]

I should have known, better. He wasn't wearing a tie!

Morale of the Story: "Remember, an expert is a person who tells you a simple thing in a confused way to make you think the confusion is your own fault" ~ William Castle (producer of Rosemary's Baby, so, yeah, he should know!)

Thanks, I.O.U. one, expert-like dude, along with everyone else, for the next 16 years.

© 2003 – 2011 This Full House

May 18, 2011
Nothing Beats a First Snot-Swapping!
My husband, Garth (not his real name) attended a business-related event, last night (yes, without me, go figure) so, the kids and I were on our own for dinner (codeword: pizza) and then settled in to watch one of my most favorite movies of all time.

All 3 of my girls were absolutely enthralled with the idea of 50 First Dates and sort of fell a little in love with Adam Sandler's character, as he attempted to make Drew Barrymore's character fall in love with him…every day.

My 12-year-old son, however, thought Rob Schneider's performance as pure genius, of course.

"Didn't you say you dated a guy like that, once, Mom?"

Long story, short (you're welcome) no, it's not the first time we've watched this movie together and yes, yes I did, although he had both his eyes, the dude was missing a couple of teeth and wore Elmer's glue, instead of hair gel, don't judge.

"What was your first kiss like?"

"Well, his gums were a little slippery and his hair kept poking me in the eye."

[eyes go wide]

"No, NOT HIM and EWWWW, I mean with Daddy?"

I knew what she meant. After approximately 8 years worth of no sleep, trust me when I tell you messing with teenagers is AWESOME!

"Actually, I don't remember."

Yes I do. But, seeing as my oldest girls are well within acceptable dating range (mine, not my husband's) they don't need to know, right?

"I do, I do!"

My 9 year-old, however, was born old and, well, being the youngest of 4 just makes having to explain the birds and the bees stuff a whole lot easier, you know?

"You sneezed snot all over him, right?"

Not quite.

Even longer story, shorter (seriously, you should be thanking me) here's a quick synopsis:
- We met on a blind date.
- Went to the movies.
- Movie turned sad.
- I cried.
- Movie turned sadder.
- I sobbed.
- Clearly, they called it Dead Poet's Society for a reason.
- I blew snot.
- Garth (NHRN) handed me his handkerchief.
- HONK!
- Tried to hand it back to him.
- Told me to keep it.
- I was hooked.
- The end.
2 months later, he proposed. Garth (NHRN) and I were married 13 months after our first date and, well, 4 kids later, suffice it to say we've both sort of grown comfortable with each other's snot.

"Do you still have the handkerchief?"

[frowns]

"Ummmmm…I don't think so."

[one beat, two beats]

"Good, because that would just be SOOOOOOO weird!"

Yes, yes it would and apparently, according to my kids, even for me, go figure.

© 2003 – 2011 This Full House
May 13, 2011
The Gift of Nothing

I woke, like most mornings, with extreme dry mouth, the ability to breath through my right nostril (ONLY!) a major case of bed head and the deep, roasty smell of a freshly-brewed pot of coffee.

Aaaand, against ALL laws of this mother's nature (i.e. no one, who knows me, can call me a morning person, EVER!) I allowed myself to be escorted to the breakfast table, eyes shut tight (stupid allergies) and well, I couldn't help but giggle when my youngest daughter announced:

"I was going to pick you some flowers, but the bees are a little cranky, this morning."

Regardless of how hard jewelry stores try to convince us, it's the little things that keep me going, as frazzled, frantic and frequently frustrated by poorly manufactured zippers, as I am.

Not to mention, less than supportive bras.

Don't EVEN get me started on stray facial hair.

Oh, and what rocket scientist thought it would be a good idea to put adhesive wings on sanitary napkins?

Seriously.

Mother Nature can be a real witch, sometimes…um…where was I…oh, yeah…these days, doesn't take much to make my heart go all, you know, squishy.

Like, finding my plate surrounded by freshly-picked blossoms from one of our neighbor's azalea bushes…kidding, it's on our side of the property line…I think.

Or, one of the treasures from our latest beach-combing excursions carefully crafted into a pretty reminder, for my desk.

Well, unlike me (DAMMIT!) this sort of stuff just never gets old, you know?

[bites lower lip]

My 12 year-old son, however, would beg to differ.

"What's with the face, Bub?"

Never one to let sleeping dogs lie…which reminds me…GET OFF THE COUCH YOU BIG DOOFUS-DAWG!…sorry about that…so, where was I…oh, yeah…nothing.

"Nothing!"

Warning…morale parenting dilemma ahead.

"Glen helped pick the flowers…yeah, and he helped me decorate the shell…yep, and he helped me cut the fruit…"

[frowning]

"No, I didn't!"

Phew! Dilemma avoided. Although, I'm not happy my daughters felt the need to lie…for my son. Still. Even my husband, Garth (NHRN) thought it was sort of nice that, you know, the girls were indeed covering for their brother.

"I did nothing."

The gift of guilt, however, lasts a lifetime, no?

"Yes, but nothing is EXACTLY what I asked for, isn't it?"

[one beat, two beats]

"Heh, you're welcome!"

Forgive me for feeling all meh about Mother's Day.

Especially, all of you new moms, out there, with your adorable little mini-selves and even though I really do miss that fresh new baby smell, sometimes.

Quite frankly, I want nothing.

Except, for a little peace.

Also, quiet.

Or, for the person who found my tweezers and forgot to put 'em back to, you know, put 'em back.

Oh, and maybe even a second cup of coffee.

Now, THAT…cough-cough-Heather…would be REAL nice.

Little things like that, right there.

But, mostly, nothing, thankyouverymuch.

"Well, then, you're gonna LOVE what I got you for your birthday!"

Yay, as long as it doesn't have a zipper, I can't wait…NOT.

© 2003 – 2011 This Full House

Freshly-Brewed Review: Honor a Mom & Give the Gift of Hope
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May 9, 2011
My Brother, The Soldier

The kids and I attended my twin brother's pinning ceremony and had the great honor of celebrating his recent promotion to Master Sargent, with the troops, on Friday afternoon.

Although, we were ALL very, very proud of him (Go Army!) my son, who wants to grow up to be just like Uncle Bud, was beyond thrilled to have been invited (thank you, Pam!) and, upon our arrival, was more than a little unnerved to find a room filled with soldiers, standing at attention, waiting for us to take our seats, in the front row.

Me, too!

"Ummmm…don't be nervous…remember they are just like your Uncle Bud!"

You see, although we ALL know how hard my brother has worked, not to mention, all the sacrifices he (and his wife Pam) has made, through the years, to get to this point in his military career (losing a kidney to cancer, along the way) to hear the same acknowledgements and accolades, from his superiors, well, yes, this was a very big deal, indeed.

Then, it was Steve's turn to speak and, even though I couldn't help but giggle at the way he kept rocking the podium, back and forth (just a little) I smiled, in affirmation, as the rest of the room was soon made privy to the light-hearted, funny little boy I grew up with.

"Phew, is it hot in here, or is it just me?!?"

Then, I was taken aback by his eloquence.

The way he acknowledged my parents as inspirations for ALL of their hard work, raising their children to be proud of their adopted country and for their strong sense of family; recognizing his wife as an equal for her sense of commitment and sacrifice; excelling even his own expectations and promising to work, just as hard, to gain the respect of his men.

As a parent, I understand how difficult it is to NOT worry about your child (no matter how grown they are) I believe this is the very first time we ALL saw Steve for the man he really is.

Aaaand, truth be told, I am so, SO HAPPY that my kids got the chance to celebrate my brother, the soldier, as well, you know?

© 2003 – 2011 This Full House

May 2, 2011
Don’t Get a Dog, Unless You Want Mine!

There's a great conversation going on at my friend Melisa's blog (a.k.a. the newly revamped SuburbanScrawl.com) questioning whether or not parents should get a dog for their kids, even though, you know, they really, really don't want one?!?

For those of you who have visited here before and been reading along (glutton for punishment, eh?) ya'll know, already (or, is it y'all, I forget?) my husband, Garth (not his real name) and I have this love/hate relationship with Doofus-Dawg.

Although, for Garth (NHRN) if the dog lives to see another day, he's lucky.

FOR EXAMPLE: We hosted Easter dinner for both sets of grandparents and, once they left, we were enjoying a lovely glass of port, with my SIL (I know, sounds so oh-la-la, but, heck my SIL bought it back from SoCal and, well, I'd be happy to share some with you, but it's ALL gone now) when…BLAM!…something in the house fell, HARD!

Garth (NHRN) ran to the playroom/laundry room, thinking one of the kids MUST have taken a header.

I thought it was the ceiling (stupid rain!)

My SIL said it came from the kitchen.

[eyes go WIDE]

DOOOOOOOOOOOFFFFFFFUSSSSSS!!!

MORALE OF THE STORY: If you are considering getting a dog, I suggest a hairless breed, no higher than your shin, when standing on its hind legs.

Or, you could always borrow one, then send it home and blame the parents when it does something really, really bad.

Even better, take my dog…instead…PUH-LEEZE!!!

Aaaaand, for the love of meat remember to put away your Easter ham!!!

[blank stare]

My story doesn't help your decision any, I know, and I'm really sorry about that, truly I am.

THE UPSIDE, HOWEVER: This blog post is NOT about my kids.

You're welcome!

© 2003 – 2011 This Full House

April 28, 2011